


Innocence

by kuonji



Category: C6D - Fandom, Wilby Wonderful (2004)
Genre: Backstory, Character Study, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-06
Updated: 2011-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-23 12:29:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuonji/pseuds/kuonji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the town Buddy grows up in, there's a boy named Duck...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Innocence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Luzula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luzula/gifts).



> [](http://luzula.livejournal.com/profile)[**luzula**](http://luzula.livejournal.com/) mentioned in [her comment on "Points In Common, Interlude"](http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/42817.html?thread=409409#t409409) that she always imagined Duck and Buddy as having been friends when they were young, so of course I immediately had to write this, because I'm annoying like that.
> 
> Alternative Links:  
> <http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/45423.html>

Buddy danced with Duck MacDonald in public when he was five years old.

They were at the summer carnival, and the band on the stage was playing disco songs that had a bunch of people dancing on the green. Buddy's mum and dad put him in a roped-off place with a bunch of other kids, a couple of adults watching them.

Most of the kids were dancing, too, so Buddy joined in. He grabbed a hyperactive little boy wearing a light blue jumper and beat-up tan shorts covered in grass stains, and they jumped around together and laughed until they were hiccupping.

By the time their parents returned, they had changed partners a few times, and neither of them remembered each other.

***

Buddy kissed Duck MacDonald -- twice -- on the playground when he was in third grade.

He and some of the other boys were fighting over a football that one of them had brought from home. Buddy had it and he was running hard. He heard shouts behind him and he was looking over his shoulder to see how close his pursuit was when all of a sudden his feet got tangled in something soft and noisy. There were yelps and screams and shouts, and the world turned over as he sprawled head over heels across the grass with another boy.

Buddy got up first, dazed but accustomed from habitual roughhousing to shaking off a fall like that. He even still had the ball gripped under one arm. He was proud of himself for that.

It was only then that Buddy realized the other kid was bawling like crazy and holding his head of scruffy dirty-blond hair. Blue-gray, shocked-looking eyes stared up at him out of a scrawny little face. Two other boys were staring at them open-mouthed from a little ways away.

"Cripes, Buddy."

"Did you step on his head? Is he going to be retarded? We are in _so_ much trouble."

"Buddy, shut him up before Mrs. Hoyle hears!"

His friends had lined up on the other side of the boundary between the 'big kids' and the 'little kids', marked with a chalked line in the grass. They were staring between Buddy and the kid with equal parts horror and fascination.

"My head hurts," the kid stated, winding down into sniffles.

"He needs to go to the hospital!" yelled one of the other kids. The third one started making siren noises and running around in a circle.

"Look, kid..."

"My name's Walter," the kid interrupted, pouting.

"Um, okay, Walter. Look, if you don't tell on me, I'll, uh..." He tried to think of a suitable bribe. "I'll give you a quarter."

The kid's eyes narrowed. "Okay. But what about my friends? They could tell, too."

"Here comes Mrs. Hoyle!" warned one of the guys. Buddy looked frantically in the direction of the tables where the field monitor usually rested. Indeed, a large, brown-haired woman was approaching them, slowly but in a direct line.

Digging in his pockets, Buddy found only thirty cents. He gestured at his friends, and they all pawed through their clothes, finally producing just enough for twenty-five cents for each of the three little boys.

The coins exchanged hands, and Buddy gave a sigh of relief.

"My head still hurts." The kid -- Walter -- suddenly piped up.

"You got your stupid quarter, didn't you?" Buddy asked impatiently.

The kid's eyes started to get watery again. He was a shrimpy, short little kid. Buddy hoped he hadn't really hurt him.

Without thinking about it, Buddy gave the kid a hug. "You're okay. Just a bruise, right? Big boys don't cry about that." Copying what his mum always did when he hurt himself, he kissed the kid on the crown of his head.

Walter frowned. "It hurts _here_ ," he insisted, patting a spot off to the side.

Rolling his eyes, Buddy kissed that spot instead. "Better?" he asked.

Walter shrugged. Then he scrambled away from Buddy and ran off with his friends following.

"Come on, Buddy, let's go!"

They took off in the other direction and didn't look back.

***

Buddy slept with Duck MacDonald in the woods during the summer between junior high and high school.

He was on an overnight camping trip with a bunch of kids. Even though the hiking and swimming during the day had been fun, he'd just read Bram Stoker's _Dracula_ , and he was convinced that every flutter and scrape he heard was an unholy demon come to kill him in his sleep.

He'd been crowded into the left corner of the tent, the slanted tarp pressing almost against his face like a shroud. Weird shadows filtered through the material, but even with his eyes wide open, he couldn't see anything clearly. He kept turning around and fidgeting long after the other kids fell asleep, and he winced every time the nylon of his sleeping bag rubbed against the tent or the neighboring kid's sleeping bag.

"Will you _stop_?" A loud whisper startled him, then made him blush uncomfortably.

"It's cold," he whispered back, the first excuse he could think of.

"Oh, jeez. Haven't you ever gone camping before? You have to wear lots of layers."

"I know that," he replied. Of _course_ he knew that, but he was trapped in his lie.

The kid next to him sighed and shifted around. Buddy heard a zipper and some more shuffling. Then something landed on his face. He scrabbled it off. "Hey!"

"Put that on." The kid laid back down huffily and zipped himself back in his bag, facing away from Buddy.

After untangling the wad of material, he determined it to be a flannel shirt. He wasn't cold, so he didn't put it on, but the stranger's scent coming off of it was a constant reminder that he was surrounded by other, living people. With the shirt next to his head, Buddy was finally able to fall asleep.

***

Buddy gave Duck MacDonald flowers in front of City Hall when he was a junior in high school.

Duck had won first place in the amateur rowing competition against their rival school from Shelburne. Wilby, historically a longtime champion in that event, had lost to Shelburne the last two years in a row. The whole town was ecstatic at the wrested victory.

The mayor had a ceremony for the occasion on the front steps of City Hall. Duck got a shiny medal, and Buddy, who happened to be student body president of Wilby High that year, got to hand him a big bunch of flowers and have his picture taken for the Island Sentinel.

He probably still had the picture somewhere, big smiles on all three of them and the caption reading, unfortunately, _"From left: Mayor Thomas Donahue, Walter MacDonald, Buddy Frinch."_

***

Buddy held hands with Duck MacDonald in church the year before he started college.

He didn't know Duck real well, but he and his parents had been going to the MacDonalds' hardware store for years and years. When Duck's mum passed away, they sat at the left end of the ninth pew for the funeral service.

Duck got up and said some stuff. He looked very grown up in his suit, and his serious expression made him look wise. After he was done, instead of going back to his seat, he just kind of wandered off down the side aisle and left by the front. There were a few rustlings in the crowd, but Duck's dad said, "Let the boy go," so they continued.

Buddy had a seat on the edge, so Duck walked right by him. He looked pale and shocky, like kids who'd gotten tackled too hard and gotten concussed. Coach had always warned them to watch each other for that and to get help immediately if they saw the signs. He knew this wasn't the same thing, but he didn't feel right leaving Duck alone. So after a while, he crept out of his seat as well.

He didn't have to look far. Duck was still in the foyer, sitting against the wall next to the big double front doors. His black formal socks showed where the hem of his pants pulled up. He had his head between his knees when Buddy first came out the door, before he jerked and looked at him.

Buddy hesitated, then went to sit next to the other boy. Duck stared at Buddy blankly and didn't blink enough. Buddy didn't know what to say. He couldn't imagine losing his mum the way Duck had.

Finally, he reached out and took Duck's hand. Duck followed the motion with his eyes. When Buddy squeezed his hand, he squeezed back. Then Duck closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall.

They sat like that for what seemed like a long time. Then Duck pulled away, patted Buddy's hand, twitched a smile at him, and stood up to go back. When Buddy went back in as well, Duck was sitting next to his dad again. Mr. MacDonald's head was bowed down, and Duck had his arm around his dad's shoulders.

***  
***

Buddy found out Duck MacDonald was gay two days after the mainlander Dan Jarvis failed to hang himself and Buddy's wife Carol failed to sell his mum's house.

He and a group of cop friends were gathered at the Loyalist on a weekend when one of them mentioned it.

"Duck?" Buddy leaned forward in surprise. "No kidding? I've known him almost all my life, and I never would've guessed."

There were nods of agreement all around the table.

"If the fucking handyman is gay, then who's safe, huh?" one of Buddy's friends muttered. "I'd never have thought MacDonald for a pansy."

More nods went around, amid shifty exchanges of assessing looks. Then another guy spoke up:

"Know what, though? I feel better now about leaving Helen home alone when Duck's over for a job. Guess she's safe with him, right?"

"Hell, your wife's safe with _anybody_ ," was the immediate reply.

Raucous curses and laughter followed that, and with everyone jumping in with their opinions and one-up jibes, the oddities of other people were soon forgotten.

  
END.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this story, you might try these:  
>       [Say The Word](http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/44697.html) (Wilby Wonderful), by kuonji  
>       [Promise](http://community.livejournal.com/starskyhutch911/524886.html) (Starsky & Hutch), by kuonji  
>       [A Home On The Ocean Wave](http://www.sparklydanceboys.com/oceanwave.htm) (Wilby Wonderful), by Dayse  

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [This Is Not A Love Story But A Story About Love (the Worldliness remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/271532) by [kuonji](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuonji/pseuds/kuonji)




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